


The Holly and the Ivy

by Llwyden ferch Gyfrinach (Llwyden)



Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: Winter Solstice, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:42:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llwyden/pseuds/Llwyden%20ferch%20Gyfrinach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin reflects on his part in things, on Solstice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Holly and the Ivy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jenavira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenavira/gifts).



> Thank you once more to my lovely beta, Arduinna! You rock SO HARD!

The wren hops past, and Robin looks up from polishing his sword to smile at it.

"Hello, little one," he murmurs. He keeps his voice down, less to avoid frightening the bird and more to avoid the mockery he'd get from the others for talking to it. "If you're looking for food, you may have come to the wrong place." It's been a lean winter so far, and the freeze hasn't even set in.

He looks around and leans in to whisper to it. "Actually, you might want to avoid Will, or you could find yourself on the wrong end of dinner." The bird looks up at him with a beady eye, and he chuckles. "Don't worry; I know better. I may not entirely believe in omens, but Edward would have my head if I ate you at this time of year."

Edward of Wickham is the nearest they have to a priest around these parts; he's busy getting the village set for the Solstice ceremony tonight. The death of the Holly King and the return of the Oak. Robin sighs and shifts restlessly. The Oak King, Herne. He's still not entirely sure what to make of it all; he never entirely believed in the old gods - or any god - until he was chosen. Now, will he or nil he, he's caught up in the whole damn thing.

How he became a rebel leader, he's not sure, but he likes to think his father would be proud; Ailric of Loxley never bent his knee for any Norman. How became a religious figure, he's got no bloody clue, and he's reasonably sure his father wouldn't, either.

He's got another father now, though, and tonight he returns. The days will get longer, the land will awaken, and the people will awaken, too. The summer is his time - the Oak King, and his bird, the robin.


End file.
